


The Sinner Angel

by Dreamer_of_Improbable_Dreams



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Antichrist!Sam, Boyking!Sam, Broken!Sam, M/M, Prompt Fic, dubcon, evil!Sam, noncon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-30
Updated: 2017-01-30
Packaged: 2018-09-20 21:49:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9517553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dreamer_of_Improbable_Dreams/pseuds/Dreamer_of_Improbable_Dreams
Summary: Written for this prompt by Majestic Duck (who tried to sneak past me in Anonymous but I caught her. Because I've read pretty much all her works 10x each. I KNOW HOW YOU SOUND DUCKY)Prompt:Dean's been running a long time. He can't remember the last time he could sit down and not look over his shoulder. It's not easy running from the boyking, and Sam's run out of patience. Time to bring Dean back home.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [majestic_duck (majesticduxk)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/majesticduxk/gifts).



It feels like Dean has been running forever. He’s not really sure how long exactly, after he had to ditch his phone and laptop he lost track of the date. His only measure of time is the way the world seems to fall apart and decay around him. He avoids tech like the plague. Phones, TVs, laptops, anything. Sam can hack anything and find him. His cold eyes and colder voice threatening, promising. _“I’m coming for you Dean.”_

And the whole time the skies go dark with ash and the world falls apart in Sam’s grasp. The people Dean crosses paths with becoming more beaten and twisted by despair as time goes on. 

The trees twist and blacken, and grass dies. And everywhere he goes Sam’s voice and accusing eyes chase him from the dead screens in abandoned shopfronts.

_“You made me into this.”_

_“I became this for you.”_

_“Come back to me Dean.”_

Nowhere he runs is far enough.

His soul is heavy with the weight of Sam’s fate. The weight of the world’s fate. Every monster he kills, every demon he exorcises, bears Sam’s crest. Every ghost he lays to rest is a taunt at his weakness, his failure.

The people hate him. Know him as the Judas who chose the antichrist over the world. They look at him and see the selfish man who brought back a monster just because he couldn’t bear his own grief.

Well Dean is damn well paying for it now.

Running on foot because the Impala’s dead in the water. The radio spitting out static and Sam’s voice, _“I’m sick of waiting. I’m coming for you now Dean, theres no more running.”_ before the whole damn thing had died with an almighty noise like ripping metal.

It’s been three days and Dean knows he’s running out of time. He can feel Sam’s presence getting closer like static on his skin, can see it in the way the rain runs up the windows of the shop fronts like its trying to make a break for the clouds.

A part of him wonders if he’d have had better luck running in the wilds then ducking through allies hoping to dodge the Antichrist. Reality is, it doesn’t matter. He’s dead anyway.

Sam’s right behind him. Pissed and impatient and powerful enough to make gravity wonky and water run uphill. And he’s here to make Dean pay. Dean’s about to pay his dues to the world for unleashing the end of days. And he’s willing to bet theres just enough human left in his brother for Sam to make him pay for letting him loose to destroy the world. _‘You promised me, you promised you’d stop me.’_ Dean’s doe eyed little brother whispers from the corner of his sight. Dean turns away, too ashamed to meet the eyes of even his brother’s phantom, conjured from his own grief stricken guilty conscience.

“Got you.” Sam’s voice purrs in his ear as hands close around his throat.

 

When Dean opens his eyes he’s in the middle of a black room. Walls, ceiling, floor, all black stone polished to a mirror shine. Nothing in the room but a black throne, the chains to the ceiling holding Dean on his toes, and Sam. 

Sam, who looks bigger and angrier then Dean has ever seen him, with a crown of bone white antlers on his head.

“Heya Sammy, long time no see.” Dean quips. 

Sam’s face is thunderous.

His hands shake with rage when he lays them on Dean’s cheeks, cupping his face as gently as a lover.

“You left me.” He whispers.

“You ran away and left me to become this.” 

And his eyes blaze like embers as his fingers dig into Dean’s skin. His thumb pressing harshly between Dean’s teeth to mute any reply.

“You left me alone to became the Alpha and the Omega, the beginning and the end, the final judgment.” Sam’s voice was harsh, burning through Dean like forest fire and earthquakes, his own tongue choking as Sam’s thumb was forced deeper into his mouth. 

“And I judge you now Dean.” His name spit like a curse. “I judge you for leaving me. Alone. Please, Dean, it was so long, I’m so scared and lonely.” Sam’s voice breaks and all of a sudden it’s Sammy again, young and scared and wanting his brother, hiding his face in Dean’s chest. Hands leaving his face to clutch against his chest.

“It’s ok Sammy, I’m here, I’m not gonna leave you,” Dean wishes his arms weren’t tied over his head so he could wrap his little brother up.

“Yes… It’s ok now, you’re here. And you’re never leaving.” Sam says softly into his neck before teeth clamp down on Dean’s neck and his world explodes into agony. Sam’s biting him! Sammy’s gonna rip his goddamn throat out!

And then its over and he’s lightheaded with relief and Sam is locking a thick piece of leather around his abused neck.

“What the hell are you doing?” Dean demands, as Sam releases the chains and his hands fly to his neck, feeling the collar around his throat.

“Making you mine.” Sam whispers as he takes Dean’s mouth in a claiming kiss.

Dean struggles to break free and Sam shoves him backwards, it’s like getting shoved off a building, everything lurches and blurs around him and suddenly he’s toppling onto silk sheets, his brother’s weight crashing down on top of him.

“It’s your fault! It’s your fault! You made me like this!” Sam is moaning like a dying thing and Dean’s clothes start turning to ash under his fingertips. Dean’s scrabbling at Sam, trying to catch his wrists and stop him. “What the hell are you doing Sam?!” 

“I’m showing you whats mine so you can never take it away again.” And his eyes burn with the embers of the end of days and lost little brother despair.

Dean understands too late when Sam pulls wide Dean’s legs and fits himself between his brother’s thighs.

Dean’s mouth is full of Sam’s hellfire kisses, his body pinned by his own flesh and blood, Sam’s fingers tangled in his hair. And he understands.

This is his retribution.

His payment in full. 

Sacrificial lamb for the world. His blood and body to guide his lost brother back to the light. Something for Sam to cling to in his pain and confusion, like some bastard angel stripped of its wings, purifying the darkness through sin.


End file.
